


Unplanned

by mightbeanasshole



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Car Sex, M/M, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-19
Updated: 2015-03-19
Packaged: 2018-03-18 15:03:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3574106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mightbeanasshole/pseuds/mightbeanasshole
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some good old fashioned rimming in the back seat of a car. Based on a prompt for Michael/Geoff without lube from crality! Thank you friend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unplanned

**Author's Note:**

  * For [crality](https://archiveofourown.org/users/crality/gifts).



In the back seat of the sedan, Michael’s begging so hard to be fucked—whining so intensely and grinding up against Geoff’s hip—that it’s almost like Michael thinks that if he whimpers enough, Geoff will be able to produce lube out of thin air.

But barring that act of prestidigitation, Geoff knows he needs to come up with _something._  And honestly, if Michael is going to start demanding to be fucked in strange places, he ought to think ahead a little. I mean the kid has Amazon Prime and individual packets of lube **_do_** exist, if that’s your main goddamn priority outta—

A broken whine brings Geoff back to himself. 

"What do you want me to _do_ , Michael?”—but even as he asks the question, Geoff already knows the answer. It’s not that Michael just wants to get off or that he’s dead-set on being fucked—an impossibility given the limitations. 

Michael wants to submit. He wants the type of elbows-grinding-into-the-ground, tears-rolling-down-his-face, ass-in-the-air kind of release that he only gets through being totally vulnerable. 

Michael’s already got his pants off and it’s easy to maneuver him over onto his belly. He accepts the change in position without question, trusting Geoff utterly, and he moans high and loud when Geoff roughly hitches his hips up so that he’s kneeling across the back seat. 

Geoff can tell he wants the rough handling and he lets his hands dig into Michael’s hips, then, as he kisses down Michael’s spine, kisses turning to long licks, long licks leading to Michael’s ass. Once his mouth is going, Geoff pauses a moment and spits an impressive amount of saliva into his own hand. He uses a knee to spread Michael’s legs, enjoying the sounds Michael makes as he does it, and reaches his hand through Michael’s legs to wrap around his erection. 

Michael starts to melt at the contact and Geoff uses his other hand to steady his hips before returning to give Michael’s ass attention. 

This is what Michael needed—the firm grip, the confident hand stroking him, Geoff’s face buried in his ass—and he tells Geoff, the dirty talk spilling out now, near-incoherent—words tumbling out of him at breakneck speed about how much he thinks about being fucked by Geoff, about how amazing Geoff is with his tongue, about how he could come just from the rimming alone—and his hips seem to be out of his conscious control as they flutter and jerk forward into Geoff’s hand and backward onto his face, as if Michael’s body can’t decide if it wants to fuck into Geoff’s fist or _be_ fucked by his tongue. 

"Geoff, please, I—" and Michael’s voice is thick and high, "I don’t wanna come yet, I wanna get you off—what can I…"

Geoff pulls back to shush him, to lay kisses across the saddle of his back. He spits into his hand again, his palm going tacky, before he reaches back between Michael’s legs, stroking and twisting slowly now. 

"Let’s just worry about you right now," Geoff says, and he watches as Michael nods, settles back down to press his face against the cool leather of the back seat. Because it _does_ get Geoff off just to do this, to have a complete control over Michael’s release, to know exactly what he needs.

It’s not much longer, then, with Geoff’s mouth and hands working in tandem—their combined sounds wet and obscene. Michael’s hips work higher and higher into the air as his face and shoulder grind into the seat, his spine bowing down dramatically, and even without being inside of Michael, Geoff can tell when an orgasm begins to curl in the base of Michael’s balls, and he keeps up the rough rhythm with his hand as he strokes his tongue into michael, licking firm into the tight rim of muscle, drawing patterns on his flushed entrance. 

Michael rocks hard through an orgasm, sobbing Geoff’s name between praises and curses and plenty of noises that aren’t even half words. Geoff tries to keep up but the other man is bucking forward into his hand through the final strokes, spilling onto the seat. 

Geoff lets him go gently when the moment passes and draws back his arm, realizing how stiff his shoulders had gotten from the position—and at the same time Michael scoots forward, trying not to drag his entire body through the puddle of semen they now need to deal with. Michael finds a discarded tshirt and drops it over the mess as if to say “no need to acknowledge that exists right now,” before collapsing into the corner of the back seat. 

"See," Michael says through a smug grin. "I _knew_ you could wreck me without lube.” 


End file.
